


at practice

by lalaietha



Category: Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalaietha/pseuds/lalaietha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>When the stars fade, Snow White looks up into Quert's face as he leans on his quarter-staff, leans over her a little and says, "You're dead again, queenship," in his </i>I'm greatly amused by your pain<i> voice.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	at practice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pathstotread](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pathstotread/gifts).



When the stars fade, Snow White looks up into Quert's face as he leans on his quarter-staff, leans over her a little and says, "You're dead again, queenship," in his _I'm greatly amused by your pain_ voice. He looks pleased with himself, and Snow White resists the urge to kick him in the knee; by the rules of practice, she's dead, and if she's dead she's not allowed to injure anyone else until they start over again. 

There are times Snow White wonders, not if she loves each of the dwarves like cousins and brothers or uncles - she does, she knows it - but _why_. Especially Quert and Coll. Who's laughing at her from the side. 

"Thank you," she says, letting her head fall back. "The flowering pain confused me there for a moment." 

"I didn't hit you that hard," Quert says, and he does offer her a hand up. She takes it; by now it doesn't even make her wonder that a figure who comes up to her armpit can take all of her weight and that of the mail she's wearing without so much as grunting. She winces, gets her balance and then looks at Eric. 

"Why can't I spar with William?" she says. She tries not to sound plaintive, but this is the eighth time she's ended up on her back, her face, her side or her backside today, and she hasn't managed to land anything on Quert yet. 

Eric has his thoughtful look on, the one he wears when he's considering a problem he hasn't found a solution to yet, one arm folded across his chest and the other thumb against his chin. "Because William won't hit y'hard enough," he says. "For that matter, I have a hard time hitting y'hard enough, being who y'are. Quert doesn't have that problem." 

Quert looks slightly smug, and Eric adds, "Quert would beat up fluffy ducklings." 

"Only if they were annoying me," Quert objects, for a wonder not wanting to come off a complete monster. Snow White sighs. 

"What am I doing wrong?" she asks, leaning on her knees to ease her back. 

"Flinching." The answer comes from Coll, Quert, Eric _and_ Duir, who's carefully blunting a couple of swords to use in practice when they've finished with the quarter-staves.

"Y've got to learn to hit people," Coll explains, leaning on his own staff. "And hard." 

"It's hard to hit people I like," Snow White half-heartedly objects. "And I like him. Most of the time," she adds.

"I'm pretty sure he could fix that," Coll says. 

"Alright," Eric interrupts. "Go again." 

Snow White sighs, picks up her staff and tries to remember that it's Quert's fault she's going to be so bruised she'll have to learn to fly to sleep comfortably for a week.


End file.
